good friend," said Lumley, when he began to
recover.

"The Great Master of Life saved you," returned the Indian. "He made use
of me--for which I thank him."

It was not until late on the following day that Lumley felt strong
enough to return to the fort, and relate what had occurred. Then the
plans for the future were laid before Big Otter, and, to the
satisfaction of all parties, he agreed at once to fall in with them.

"But," said he, "Big Otter will not stay. He loves the great wilderness
too well to be content to live among the wooden wigwams of the
pale-faces."

"Well, we won't bother ourselves on that point just now," said Macnab,
"and so, as that's comfortably settled, I'll pack up and away back to my
mountain fort to get ready for a trip, with you and Lumley and Jessie,
to Colorado."

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

THE LAST.

Once more I change the scene, from the wild regions of the north to the
little less wild lands of Colorado.

On a certain bright forenoon in Autumn I stood in the doorway of Sunny
Creek Cottage watching a clumsy vehicle as it laboured slowly up the
hill. I was alone that day, old Mrs Liston, Eve, and "Aunt Temple"
having gone off in the waggon for a long drive to visit a relative with
hunting proclivities, who had built himself a log-hut in a ravine of the
neighbouring mountains, that he might be in closer proximity to the
bears and deer.

With some curiosity I approached the lumbering machine to assist the
occupant, who seemed unable, or too impatient, to open the door. It was
a stiff door, and swung open with a jerk which caused the occupant's hat
to fall off, and reveal a bald head.

"Father!" I gasped.

"Punch, my boy!"

The dear old man tripped in his haste to get down, plunged into my
bosom, threw his arms round my neck to save himself, and almost bore me
to the ground. Neither of us being demonstrative in our affections,
this unpremeditated, not to say unintentional, embrace I felt to be
quite touching. My father obviously resolved to make the most of his
opportunities, for he gave me a thoroughly exhaustive hug before
releasing me.

"I--I--didn't m-mean," said my father, blazing with excitement, and
gasping with a mingled tendency to laugh and weep, "didn't mean to come
it quite so strong, P-Punch, my boy, b-but you'll make allowance for a
momentary weakness. I'm getting an old man, Punch. What makes you grin
so, you backwoods koonisquat?"

The last senten